A/N:

Yes, I know, I suck at titles!

I actually dreamed the second half of this one. No kidding. So I'm not taking any responsibility for over-the-top-fluffiness. Blame my subconscious.

Also, I know Sarek was awesome to Spock in the movie, even more so in the book. But I just rewatched "The Journey to Babel". Twice. Somehow it just stuck. So, sorry for taking liberties, although I tried to keep it canon best I could.

What else? Oh, yes I should probably warn for pre-slash. Mild, though.

As always: Nothing's mine (the more's the pity) and BIG HUGE FLUFFY THANKS to Tschu for looking over it! I still don't have a native speaking Beta, so excuse any mistakes or awkward verbalizations, they're all mine!

It was 19.3 months into the mission when Spock couldn't hide any longer that he and his father were not speaking.

The fact did not bother him unduly. The relationship between him and his father had always been difficult. Sarek was a stern and dominant parent and he'd always had trouble accepting the fact that he had a son who looked like any other Vulcan but was, no matter how hard he tried, in so many ways different.

In his younger years, Spock had gone to lengths trying to meet his father's expectations or at least earn his respect, often hurting his mother in the process.

Following Sarek's disappointed, almost openly angry, reaction at refusing a position at the Vulcan Science Academy, Spock had decided that they would both benefit if they didn't see or hear too much of each other.

They had simply stopped talking to each other. Until the day after Amanda had died.

For a while, Spock had thought that things were about to change. After all, Sarek had reached out to him. They had a common basis in their grief for Amanda.

Spock thought back to that fateful day in all their lives and how his father had told him he was grateful for him and who he was… a child of two worlds.

For the first time he'd felt accepted, understood even, by his father. But soon, after Spock had informed Sarek of his decision to keep his position as First Officer on the Enterprise, their relationship had relapsed to its former coldness. There hadn't been any harsh words this time. His father had only expressed his renewed disappointment and they had simply stopped to interact. Sarek had never invited him to his house on New Vulcan.

And Spock was tired to try to live up to his expectations. If he was rebellious by Vulcan standards, so be it. There were a lot of things he would change about himself, if he could. He just couldn't.

No, the fact that he and his father didn't talk was not a problem for Spock. It was a problem for Jim.

Spock had started to call the Captain 'Jim' in the privacy of his thoughts approximately 6.4 months into their mission. Of course he would never do so in public. Except for when he slipped up. Or when he really needed Jim to listen. Or when he wanted to win an argument. But other than that, it was always a respectful 'Captain'.

Jim, to Spock, was a phenomenon, a constant mystery.

They had quickly come to know each other relatively intimately. Spock remembered seven different occasions in their first year alone, when they had been stuck for an extended period of time on some planet or other, leaving them nothing to do but to talk and wait for the Enterprise to come and get them. Usually, Jim did the talking. Spock didn't mind. He liked to listen.

They had soon extended their interactions to their off-duty hours, occasionally sharing a meal or playing chess, sometimes even working out together in the gym.

It didn't take long for Spock realize that Jim had a somewhat romanticized perception of the term 'family'.

Jim himself never seemed to have experienced the concept, with his father dying on the day of his birth and his mother continuing to work off-planet as soon as her sons were old enough to stay with relatives or in boarding schools.

As a result, he seemed to regard everyone who grew up in a traditional family as extremely lucky. He liked to quote old proverbs like 'blood is thicker than water' or 'an ounce of blood is worth more than a pound of friendship'. If Spock had admitted to such a feeling he would have had to say that he hated that particular one.

Jim was of the opinion that family ties were something to be treasured above all else, the clue to real happiness in life and he went to lengths to make sure his crew didn't have to neglect their family interactions too much due to the difficulty of travelling through space.

From the very beginning, he'd been especially focused on Spock in that aspect. Spock had tried to discourage him, but Jim had been insistent.

That there might be such things as family disputes or other problems in a family relationship simply didn't seem to cross his mind.

"But, your father is your only close family member left", Jim had argued when he'd tried to make Spock take off some time for Sarek's birthday (wherever he'd gotten hold of that date was a mystery to Spock).

Spock had tried to explain to Jim that Vulcans did not celebrate the anniversary of their birth. Much less if calculated in Terran years, but Jim didn't seem to understand. Actually, Spock knew he did. Jim wasn't stupid. Quite the opposite. But he'd convincingly mastered the task of pretending otherwise if it just served his purpose.

It was the reason why so many underestimated him. Not Spock, though. He knew exactly how far above average Jim's intelligence was. But it was also particularly frustrating to deal with Jim when he was in this particular mode. Mostly it was much less exhausting to just humor him. So that was what Spock usually ended up doing.

Of course Spock had not travelled to Vulcan for his father's birthday. Nor for Tal-Shanar. Nor had he called him on Christmas. Or Kal Rekk. But he'd humored Jim. He'd gone so far as to take a few days off around Tal-Shanar and had spent them on a nearby star base, expertly dodging Jim's questions concerning his reunion with his father afterwards.

And he might have implied a few times that they had spoken. After all, it seemed to make Jim happy. And it served crew morale if Jim was happy. Not least Spock's own.

But then the Enterprise was assigned to pick up a group of Vulcan ambassadors on Lexan II and shuttle them back to New Vulcan, taking the opportunity to check on the progress of the developing new colony.

There weren't many Vulcan ambassadors left, so it came as no surprise when the passenger list showed that Sarek was among them. Spock was anticipating difficulties.

Jim, though, couldn't have been more excited if his own long dead father had announced a visit. He talked incessantly about how happy he was for Spock to be able to spend several days in the company of his sole remaining parent. How great it was that Spock would be able to visit New Vulcan again.

He planned to try and negotiate a few days of shore leave to prolong Spock's visit 'home' and maybe he would show Jim around? Not that Spock had ever been there, but Jim obviously didn't know that.

Spock didn't say anything. He had no idea what could be said.

Usually, Jim would have immediately picked up on Spock's discomfort, would have noticed the involuntary stiffening of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched. Although most humans accused him of being impassive and unreadable, he could rarely hide anything from Jim.

In the days preceding the meeting, though, Jim seemed too excited to pay attention. Spock didn't know if he should be glad about it or not.

The four diplomats were brought to the Enterprise by shuttle from Lexan II. Protocol demanded they were to be greeted by an honor guard and the command team, the Captain with his First and Second Officers. Dr. McCoy would be there, too. Spock still didn't understand it, but the Doctor had the freedom to be wherever he wanted on the ship. Which was usually where Jim was. Sometimes he even stayed on the bridge during an emergency situation. Jim just never sent him away. On the other hand, McCoy supported the Captain in every diplomatic situation, even though he didn't have to and often didn't like it, a fact he vocalized loudly and frequently. It was one of those mysteries Spock didn't bother to explore.

Spock joined Jim, Dr. McCoy and Lt. Scott in the shuttle bay. Jim looked stunning in his dress uniform.

Spock immediately purged the thought. Jim was aesthetically pleasing. That was a fact. No more, no less. What he was wearing was of no consequence to that fact.

The Vulcans stepped through the airlock and it was immediately obvious that Sarek was the head of their party. He exchanged the Vulcan salute with the Captain and gracefully accepted his invitation to come aboard. Spock's head lifted with pride. Jim's salute had been flawless, the rendition of the Vulcan sentence accompanying the gesture almost accent-free. When Spock had tried to teach it to him, he'd never properly managed. Spock realized now it must have been just another of Jim's jokes.

After greeting the other three Vulcans, Jim formally introduced them to his second in command. Spock formed the salute with his right hand, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Ambassador Sarek acknowledged his son's presence with an indifferent, almost imperceptible nod before turning to Lieutenant Commander Scott. The other Vulcans ignored Spock completely.

Jim looked puzzled, but refrained from saying anything. He knew he wasn't familiar enough with Vulcan customs and traditions to assume the interaction had been anything but standard. He recovered quickly, introducing Lt. Scott and Dr. McCoy.

"We come to serve", the Vulcans intoned politely in Standard, executing the traditional salute, making it painfully clear that something was amiss. Their ignoring Spock had been no coincidence, no Vulcan tradition. Spock could pinpoint the exact moment when the pieces fell together in Jim's head.

He shot Spock a disbelieving look, but again remained professional, not reacting in any other way and astonishing Spock by regaining control of the situation immediately, answering correctly with a polite "Your service honors us", when Lt. Scott and Dr. McCoy only looked confused.

Spock was immensely grateful the Captain had spared him a scene in public.

Two hours later, Spock was in the gym, lifting weights. He'd asked for permission to leave at the first remotely unoffending possibility. Jim had dismissed him without a question.

Spock had tried to meditate in his quarters, but he hadn't been able to find the necessary internal calm. He couldn't deny it; his father's reaction had hurt. Of course, Vulcans did not experience such distracting, useless emotions like anger or hurt. They were suppressed and filed away.

But he was half human. A fact he often despised.

His experience had also taught him that often physical exercise helped him control his emotions faster and far more efficiently than meditation did. This wouldn't be the case for a Vulcan. It was the case for him, alas.

He pushed himself through a demanding regimen, panting and sweating. Vulcans didn't sweat. He did. It was another of those despicable human features.

He'd lost all sense of time when he realized Jim was standing next to him in sweats and a t-shirt. His shift must be over. Spock slowed his movements, only now realizing how his muscles were trembling with effort. Jim grabbed the weight's handlebar and helped him put it back on the rack. It was a symbolic gesture. The weights were far too heavy for Jim to lift.

Spock sat up, dabbing his face and chest with his towel. Jim wordlessly handed him a fresh one, then sat down on the opposite bench.

"What's going on?" he asked.

For all of half a second, Spock was surprised that he sounded gentle rather than accusing. But this was James Kirk after all. Compassionate, supportive, loyal James Kirk. Who still overwhelmed Spock on a regular basis with his understanding, caring manner.

Feeling like a human who was close to tears was utterly inacceptable. Spock schooled his features. Dabbed at his face and chest some more.

"Hm?" Jim prompted, when the silence had stretched too long.

"Not everyone understood or supported my decision to remain in Starfleet after the destruction of Vulcan", Spock said evenly.

Jim thought for a moment.

"So all Vulcans are pissed because their new local hero would rather work with humans than them, let alone even serve under a human? 'cause it's bad publicity, that it?"

Spock couldn't help the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. Jim's answering smile was worth the short slip of his control. It was short-lived, though.

"I am not a hero, Captain. To them, I performed to the best of my limited half-human abilities. Which was not good enough, obviously, or Vulcan would not have been destroyed.

But after the destruction, in the opinion of most, my duty would have been to the colony."

Jim leaned over, laying his hand on Spock's arm.

Spock immediately slammed his emotional barriers into place. He'd warned Jim time and time again that with his touch-telepathy he was able to catch onto other's emotions, even thoughts if they were strong enough, but Jim seemed to have absolutely no regard for his own privacy.

"Your duty is to no one but yourself", Jim said softly. "You have a right to belong. And I believe you belong on the Enterprise."

Spock had to work hard to keep his barriers in place between the double-onslaught of his own as well as Jim's emotions. He felt them humming up his arm but refused to lower his shields enough to identify them. Vulcans respected other's privacy to the highest possible degree.

He didn't pull away, though. From his mother he'd learned to recognize touch as a gesture of comfort and take solace in it. Frowned upon as it was on Vulcan, on rare occasions he appreciated it and drew from it.

He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

"I'm sorry your father is such an ass."

"My father is not…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Jim's thumb was now moving in circles on Spock's forearm. It was highly distracting. "Respect your Elders, blahblahblah. Forgive me if all I want to do right now is knock some sense into him. He should be grateful he still has a son at all. And one like you at that."

Spock knew by now his father had loved his mother, and probably, deeply suppressed, even loved him, too. But maybe it had been exactly this revelation in the transporter room, this uncommon, and in Vulcan terms shameful, display of emotion which had left Sarek feeling vulnerable and in result he had hardened up even more. Especially towards his son, who had witnessed it.

Reactions on New Vulcan, looks, evenly stated 'facts' and 'opinions' had probably reinforced Sarek's position. It is never easy to be a father to a son who is different.

Jim let go of Spock's arm and leaned back.

"Where have you spent Tal-Shanar?" he almost startled Spock with his question.

Spock forced himself out of his thoughts, back to the present.

"Starbase 19", he said quietly.

"So you haven't talked to your father in months, probably never been to New Vulcan… Why? Why didn't you just tell me? Why did you lie to me?"

Spock was silent. How could he reply when every honest answer he had was so decidedly illogical?

Because it was important to you.

Because it seemed to make you happy.

Because I didn't want you to know how miserable my relations with Vulcan really are.

How miserable I really am.

The seconds ticked by in strained silence, then Jim shrugged and offered a slight smile.

"That's ok. I'm sure you had your reasons. Tell me when you're ready. Or not at all, it doesn't matter."

It was another of Jim's character traits Spock marveled at. Jim never demanded an answer. He always just assumed Spock had a good reason for everything. He accepted the fact that sometimes Spock just wasn't able to provide an answer, for whatever reason.

Everyone else, his father, his mentors, even his mother, had always pressed him to explain his motivations, analyze them. It was a Vulcan practice and served to better oneself, make future decisions quicker and more efficiently, based on categorized past experiences.

He knew he should prefer the Vulcan way. He wasn't sure he did. He was actually quite sure he didn't.

Jim pulled him out of his reverie by clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's do some running. Get the bad mood out of our systems."

He got up and pulled off his shirt, revealing his lean-muscled torso. Spock quickly averted his eyes.

They chose two treadmills standing close together and programmed the same routine. Spock might be stronger, but Jim matched him in stamina. They ran twenty miles. Side by side. In silence.

Later, in his quarters, Spock easily worked himself into a light meditative trance. He wondered briefly about the fact that Jim had known exactly what he'd needed; physical exercise and quiet, unobtrusive but supportive company. And about how he had provided it without hesitation.

He soon set to the task of categorizing the day's emotions and filing them away. Afterwards he rested peacefully and calmly for several hours.

The calm was over in the morning.

After a hint from Lieutenant Commander Scott, Spock walked into a shouting match between the Captain and his father in briefing room two.

Actually, Jim was shouting. Sarek was regarding the Captain with a cool, dispassionate air about him.

Spock stopped short, horrified, disbelievingly taking in the scene and trying to make sense of it. Jim, in his position as the Captain of the Federation's flagship, shouting at one of the Federation's most honored Ambassadors! It was unthinkable!

It only took Spock a few seconds to discern that he was the subject of the controversy. One of the Vulcans seemed to have said or done something involving Spock that had sent the Captain into a rage.

Spock listened for several seconds more, trying to determine the best way to deal with the situation, but at Jim's threat to maroon the whole Vulcan party on an uninhabited planet he had to interrupt with a sharp "Jim!"

It stopped the Captain mid-sentence. He consciously calmed himself down, then, looking squarely at Spock but addressing Sarek, he spoke slowly:

"This is my ship. On my ship, no one insults anyone of my crew. Least of all my First Officer. Not an Ambassador, not a king, not even his own father. He is the best damn First Officer in the Fleet and he is the best man on this ship. And I don't just talk about his professionalism; I talk about his personality, too.

He could have his own ship, be a Captain, anytime. But, heaven knows why, he's decided to stick with me. And I thank all the deities that might or might not exist for that, every single day. Because without him, we wouldn't only be missing an awesome person, we'd be dead a dozen times over. If not for him, we would have lost this ship in the first week of this mission.

And if for nothing else, that's something you should at least give him credit for. It's why you should damn well be proud of your son."

He broke eye contact with Spock and finally looked at Sarek, challengingly.

Sarek blinked. "Are you done, Captain?"

Jim raked a hand through his hair. "Yes, I'm done. But bear in mind, if I hear anything like this again, I will not hesitate to leave you on the next inhabitable planet we pass and you take the next ship that happens to come along. Ask anyone of my crew. I'm crazy enough to do that. I've done dumber things and I'm not afraid of the consequences."

"I see, Captain." Sarek neatly turned on his heel, nodded to Spock and left the room.

Spock stood motionless. Thoughts, unknown emotions raced through him. He tried to force them down, focus.

Protectiveness. Jim was being protective of him, facing one of the most important Ambassadors in Federation space, a man easily four times his age, a man everyone else would consider highly intimidating. He was risking a diplomatic incident of enormous proportions and all of it for…for…

"What…why? …Jim?" Spock stammered helplessly.

Jim looked caught between embarrassment and determination, looking defiantly at Spock.

"That weasel Sinam? Caught him making comments about your 'faulty' DNA, not being suitable for…" he blushed attractively, "reproduction."

Spock exhaled. He was back on familiar ground. "But this is not an insult, Captain, it is a fact…"

Jim threw up his hands in defeat. "Oh, screw you, Spock", he shouted, brushing past him and stomping out of the room.

Spock engaged the privacy lock and sank down in the nearest chair, head in hands. He was in desperate need of either a serious workout or a very long period of meditation.

He wouldn't get either. He had eight hours of Beta shift to look forward to. He was only glad the Captain had decided to take Alpha shift today. They would only overlap for a few hours, which was good, as Jim was the primary source of his confusion.

Spock allowed himself ten minutes to violently suppress his emotions before heading to the bridge, his usual controlled and pristine self.

Lt. Sulu informed him that the Captain was on his rounds through the departments, they wouldn't overlap today. Which was just as well for Spock.

Spock hit the gym late at night, suppressing his surprise at finding Jim waiting for him. The Captain got up from the bench he was sitting on and joined Spock at the punching bags without a word.

He went through a light boxing routine while Spock delivered punch after violent punch to the automatically restrained bag, until sweat was pouring into his eyes and his wrists were hurting in his gloves. Vulcans didn't box. Spock didn't care.

In the end, Jim had to stop him or he probably would have hurt himself.

The Captain led the way to the treadmills and they ran together for another hour.

Later, in the privacy of his sonic shower cubicle, Spock let his head fall back to connect sharply with the wall. He couldn't make sense of it. Why was Jim risking his reputation and his position to protect Spock from an assumed insult? Why would he spend his free time with Spock in the gym when he could just as well spend it with his friends? Or sleep? It was almost midnight by now.

Spock couldn't fathom what Jim got out of it. But he was too pleasantly exhausted to try and analyze the situation… again. Exhausted enough not to get agitated about it. A few hours of light meditation tonight would surely suffice to get his distraction under control and appear his usual self in the morning.

He dressed in the cubicle, then stepped out into the locker room. Jim was sitting on a bench near the door, bent over, putting on his socks and shoes. Still, they hadn't spoken a word all evening.

Spock stopped, indecisively, not knowing what was expected of him. After a moment's hesitation he told himself to stop worrying about human whims, moods and implications and behave like a Vulcan again.

He grabbed his bag and made for the door. He hadn't anticipated the overwhelming urge to touch when he drew near Jim. The urge to give something back.

He ensured that his barriers were firmly in place. Then, in passing, brushed his hand lightly against Jim's shoulder, resting it in the nook where it joined his neck for just a second.

Jim's head shot up from where he'd been tying his boots, intense eyes boring into Spock's. Spock withdrew his hand and quickly left the room.

It had been the first time that he'd voluntarily reached out and touched a human other than his mother. Even when he'd still been with Nyota, he'd never initiated contact. It had always been her initiating and him reciprocating. At the best of times.

The hand that had been touching Jim was still tingling when he reached his quarters. It had been an enormous display of… of what? Whatever it signified, it had been a tremendous gesture. And somehow Spock didn't doubt Jim understood that.

They both worked Beta shift the next day. And although Spock wouldn't admit to such a thing as awkwardness, he couldn't deny the atmosphere between him and the Captain was… strained at best.

They talked only if they had to and Spock felt Jim's eyes on him whenever he thought Spock wouldn't notice. He was obviously looking, waiting for something, but Spock couldn't provide it. He didn't know what was expected of him and even if he'd known, he wasn't sure he could have given it.

As usual, the crew picked up on the mood of their command team immediately, and working the shift was an unpleasant affair. At least when he passed his father and Sinam in the hallway after shift, they both politely offered him the Vulcan salute.

Spock didn't go to the gym that night. He wasn't afraid of facing Jim, he told himself, fear was an emotion Vulcan's didn't experience. He just didn't feel like working out.

He was getting ready for his meditation cycle when Sarek asked for permission to enter Spock's quarters. Surprised, Spock granted it.

Sarek looked around, taking in the various Vulcan artifacts Spock had managed to assemble, then said, without preamble: "The Captain has provided me with all mission reports concerning the Enterprise in the past annum and has requested I read them should I wish to remain on this ship."

Again, Spock was surprised. The mission reports were top secret. Of course, an Ambassador to the Federation of Sarek's position could gain access to them at any time. But for Jim to provide them unasked was a breech of protocol at best, a violation of Starfleet regulations at worst.

"He is most insistent, your Captain."

Spock didn't answer or react in any way. It was a statement of fact.

"On every mission, you have performed admirably", Sarek stated. "You have gained several commendations. You are respected by the human crew despite your Vulcan heritage."

Spock inclined his head. It was the truth.

"I would have wished your choices to be different. But as long as you perform according to Vulcan standards…" his features softened ever so slightly. "As your mother would have said: 'As long as the boy is happy, Sarek, leave him be.'

I will heed her advice one more time. If you think Starfleet is your future and excel in your duties to the Federation, so be it. You are welcome in our new family home on New Vulcan at any time."

Spock's heart beat in his throat but he refused to let it show. Instead, he inclined his head again. "Thank you, father", he said, evenly.

Sarek offered the salute. "Rest well, my son", he said, before exciting Spock's quarters.

Spock was still in bed the next morning when he was called onto the bridge by the sirens of a red alert. Nevertheless, he was out of his room in less than three minutes.

He encountered Lt. Sulu and Ensign Chekov in the turbo lift, the former hopping on one leg, trying to get his second boot on, the latter wearing his uniform shirt inside out.

An emergency requiring their most skilled pilot… not a good sign.

The turbo lift doors had barely opened when Jim shouted: "Sulu: helm! Chekov, Spock: navigation!"

Lt. Sulu and Ensign Chekov scrambled to their assigned positions, relieving the two officers on duty. Spock composedly but quickly walked over to Chekov.

Apparently they were flying directly into a huge meteor field. A star had exploded and boulders and debris big enough to destroy the Enterprise were all around them. There was no time to analyze why the sensors hadn't picked up on the field any sooner, all they had time to worry about now was getting through it.

Spock and Chekov spent the next ten hours flat calculating and recalculating flight courses, changing them at second's notice and calculating anew.

Spock took a split second to admire the skills of the young Russian who was almost able to keep up with him. Pavel Chekov's mathematical competences were far above genius level; his combination skills sometimes even exceeded Spock's. Spock had nothing but respect for him. Still, the young man frequently seemed intimidated by the Vulcan. Jim had once explained to Spock that Chekov still felt enormously guilty for losing Amanda when Vulcan died, although Spock himself didn't put any blame on him at all.

For ten solid hours, numbers and figures shot back and forth between them in rapid succession, no time for food or even a minute's rest. Then, as suddenly as they had been in the field, they were through.

"Yo-moyo", Ensign Chekov whispered and leaned back in his chair, hands raking his hair, pale and shaky.

Lt. Sulu programmed their final course, let out a low whistle, then leaned over and high fived the Russian.

Jim wiped the sweat off his brow. He'd been practically helpless during the situation, except for some organizational decisions. Spock had realized long ago that looking on in an emergency was the Captain's nightmare. For him, not being able to act was far worse than jumping out of a space shuttle and being thrown into a no-win situation with a crazy Romulan and a giant space ship.

"Awesome, awesome job, all three of you", he said. "Each of you will get a commendation."

Ensign Chekov offered Spock a still-shaky smile. Spock wished nothing more than to reciprocate. Instead, he gave the biggest praise he was capable of: "Admirable performance, Mr. Chekov. It is an honor working with you."

Jim grinned broadly. He'd understood the significance of that sentence and Spock knew, if Ensign Chekov hadn't, Jim would explain it to him in a private moment.

"Get out of here, all of you. Get something to eat and as much rest as you need. That's an order."

As soon as their reliefs had appeared at their stations, Lt. Sulu and Ensign Chekov filed out.

Spock turned to Jim. "What about you, Captain?"

"I'll wrap up here, don't worry about me, Spock."

Spock refrained from explaining, again, the fact that Vulcan's didn't worry. He was too exhausted.

Instead he nodded and made his way to the turbo lift. Only now did he notice his father standing in the back near the lift. He inclined his head towards Spock, eyes speaking of approval.

Spock's heartbeat picked up, his chest swelling with a feeling which could only be identified as the human emotion of pride. His father had seen him at work and he was satisfied with his performance, even approved.

Spock quickly entered the turbo lift before anyone could pick up on his decidedly un-Vulcan emotions.

He was too tired to even undress. He only took off his shoes and as soon as he lay down on his bed he was deeply asleep. It was an unusual occurrence for any Vulcan. Even Spock.

When he awoke, they were already in orbit around New Vulcan.

Spock took a sonic shower, changed and arrived on the bridge, impeccable as usual.

Jim was, with Sarek's assistance, negotiating shore leave terms with the Vulcan Elders. Everything seemed in perfect order. Spock allowed himself a deep breath of relief. The universe was right again. They were safe, he was talking to his father again and he would see New Vulcan. In Jim's company no less.

But they were stationed on the Enterprise. Things never went smoothly on the Enterprise.

Before negotiations were even finished, a comm came through from Starfleet Command. Nimus IV, a peaceful little planet with a humanoid population not far from New Vulcan was sending severe distress signals.

Jim took a moment to groan and roll his eyes before opening a ship-wide channel: "Ladies and gentlemen, change of plans. The cavalry is needed elsewhere."

He cut the transmission and looked at Spock. "If you want to spend some time on the planet, we can pick you up…"

Spock rested his hands on the back of the Captain's chair. "My place is here, Captain", he said gravely, conveying so much more than words could. He could tell Jim was thinking of their conversation in the gym, too.

The Captain nodded and gave Spock a brief smile, then hurried to get the Vulcan Ambassadors off board.

Spock only had a few minutes to bid goodbye to his father. In the shuttle bay, Sarek repeated his invitation for Spock to visit anytime he wanted and Spock gratefully accepted before they exchanged the salute. Then the Vulcans were gone and Jim and Spock hurried back to the bridge, easily falling into step with each other.

"I'm so sorry", Jim apologized in the privacy of the turbo lift, even though, of course, it wasn't his fault. "Just when things with your father were looking up…"

Spock shook his head. "They are good", he corrected, letting a slight smile pull at the corner of his mouth, "not least thanks to you."

Jim's smile lit his whole face. He took a breath, hesitated. "What about us?" he asked finally. "Are we…"

Yeoman Henman chose that exact moment to enter the turbo lift. Jim gave Spock a crooked grin and a half-shrug, clearly conveying 'we'll talk later'.

This time, Spock didn't deny, inwardly, that he was afraid of that talk.

The short flight to Nimus IV was a busy affair.

There were preparations to be made, a quick pre-mission briefing to be held, a landing party to be put together.

It didn't help that Dr. McCoy decided to throw a fit on the bridge when he found out Jim hadn't slept since the beginning of the meteor incident and now asked for a booster-prep. In the end, of course, Jim got what he wanted; he always did with Dr. McCoy. It was most unsettling at times.

Then it turned out it was winter on the part of Nimus IV where the distress signal came from. And winter on Nimus IV was particularly cold and fierce, so Jim didn't want to take Spock down with him, which led to another, quite heated, argument on the bridge.

Starfleet recommendations for dangerous missions advised that one member of the command team led the landing party, while the other stayed on board.

Jim and Spock had never heeded that advice, mostly because they had discovered, from the very beginning, that they were only able to survive impossible situations as a team.

Besides, with Lieutenant Commander Scott they had a very able third in command and even Lieutenant Sulu made an excellent Captain ad interim.

Spock won their dispute, of course, he didn't even have to play the 'Jim-card'. And, after selecting three security officers to go with them, they all donned warm parkas, gloves and hats and beamed town.

This, in itself, was alarming. They had found Klingon Warbirds attacking Nimus IV and the planet's shields should have been raised, preventing beaming as well as phaser impacts.

Lt. Commander Scott was left with the instruction to draw the Warbirds' attention off the planet with as little danger to the Enterprise as possible while the landing party would investigate the reason for Nimus IV's defenseless state.

They materialized in the subterranean Council Hall and were almost shot by a bunch of panicked Nimans even though Lt. Uhura had alerted them of their coming.

The ground rocked with explosions and debris rained from the ceiling.

"What the hell happened to your shields?" Jim shouted as soon as he'd taken in the scene.

"No-nothing", the Niman leader stammered. "We keep them down as a sign of our peaceful nature and of invitation. We have never been attacked before."

Jim stared, disbelieving. "You have shields but you're not even putting them up when you're being attacked?"

"The control station is unmanned. At the moment it is impossible to get to it. There is a blizzard outside. Our transport system has broken down. No one would survive the trek. It's several miles. And then there's the explosions!"

Jim looked on the verge of exploding himself, but again, he deliberately calmed himself. "If you could get to the control station, is there any chance you could get those shields up anytime in the foreseeable future?" he asked, his annoyance plain.

"Of course", the Niman leader answered. "All you had to do would be to disengage the security locks… but it's impossible…the storm…the phaser bombs…"

Jim shoved his tricoder into the Niman's hands. "Give me everything I need. Coordinates, security codes, everything. I'll go."

He determinedly zipped up his parka, fastening the hood over his hat. Spock followed suit.

"Oh no, you're not", Jim snapped. "You know as well as I do that Vulcans are not equipped for cold. You come from a desert planet, for chrissakes, be sensible! You're not going out in a snowstorm!"

"Captain, you are by no means better accustomed to cold than I am", Spock countered.

"Oh no? Remember Delta Vega? I've walked through snow and ice far longer there than I will here."

Spock felt a pang. Bringing up Delta Vega was low. It was still a sore point between them.

But Spock had his answer: "Do you not remember that I was there, too, longer than you have, and I did not die from exposure?"

Jim stared at him and that was when the Niman leader handed him the tricoder back.

"Alright", he said, "we don't have time for arguing. But I'm warning you, if you die on me…"

"I will not, of course, die on you", Spock said with as much dignity as he could muster, bundled up to his eyes in layers of wool and coat.

Jim, looking torn between amusement and exasperation, shook his head and turned to the security team standing by.

"You stay here", Jim said. Chief of Security Gardner looked about to protest but Jim cut him off.

"Can you protect us from snow, wind and the cold?" he asked. Gardner shook his head.

"Can you protect us from phaser bombs?" Again Gardner shook his head.

That seemed to settle it for Jim. "See?" he asked. "You'll be of much more use around here. Try to get transportation running again. And as soon as it does, send someone to the control station. Maybe they'll make it there faster than we do. If we're not there, come for us. But only after the shields are raised. Questions?"

Gardner saluted. "No, Sir!"

Jim looked at Spock. "Shall we?"

Spock nodded and, led by a Niman, they jogged through the maze of corridors and stairs until they arrived at the surface.

Jim wrenched the door open. "After you, sir", he said with an exaggerated gesture

The wind was a savage roar, blowing hailstones into his face and almost knocking him off his feet. It was so much colder than he had imagined and Spock wasn't sure he would be able to breathe, let alone walk in this temperature.

Jim was at his back, shoving him forwards. Spock took a few steps but realized he couldn't see anything. He stopped and consciously employed his second eyelids. Now he could make out Jim standing in front of him, gesturing back to the council hall. Spock didn't know how the human could stand it. But if Jim could, he could, too. There was no way he was going back. They would either make it or die trying, together. His place was here, at Jim's side.

He shook his head and gestured for Jim to take the lead, then forced his legs to move. Without another look back, they set off into the storm, phaser fire erupting left and right.

After a quarter of a mile Spock knew it had been a mistake. The skin around his eyes and over his cheekbones was already blistering. He had difficulty seeing, breathing, and, especially, keeping up with Jim. He vehemently pushed the pain into a corner of his mind. He was Vulcan. He would not be physically surpassed by a human, even if that human was Jim. Eyes fixed on Jim's boots, Spock trudged on.

Jim tried his communicator, probably to call the Enterprise and warn them that they were out in the open so they could try and keep the bombs away from the area. But it was probably too cold, it didn't work. He shrugged and checked their course on the tricoder. Spock marveled at how he was still able to manipulate the device and calculate routes. He couldn't even feel his hands and feet anymore and his brain had all but shut down.

Jim looked back, stopped, then grabbed Spock's arm and set a brisk pace, using his tricoder for guidance.

Spock staggered to keep up, his limbs already frozen, but at least they were lucky in regard to the phaser fire, no hit was close enough to acutely endanger them.

They reached the control facility after an indeterminable time. His sense of time had completely left Spock. All he knew was that for the last hour or so he had been counting his breaths just to stay conscious. And even simple counting had been difficult to do. He'd had to start over several times.

Jim manipulated the facility's access system while Spock stood listlessly by, trying not to collapse to the ground because in a detached part of his mind he knew he would never get back up if he did. He was long beyond shivering.

They gained entrance easily enough and Jim dragged Spock inside. At least they were out of the wind now.

Jim dropped the tricoder, turned to Spock and, grabbing both his shoulders, pushed him against the wall. Spock was grateful for the support. Peripherally he was aware of Jim shaking him but he was too busy admiring the icicles clinging to the Captain's eyelashes. Something wasn't right about that but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

Jim pushed the hood off Spock's head, tore the cloth he had wrapped around his face down and slapped him once, hard. Spock dimly registered the pain on his damaged skin. Then Jim did it again. And again. Spock could feel his heartbeat pick up while Jim furiously rubbed down his shoulders and arms. Finally, a violent shiver claimed him, and he shuddered from head to toe. Then another. Spock tried to suppress the third but Jim seemed to know what he was doing. "Don't!" he ordered, shaking him again. "You need to shiver. It's your body's way of trying to get its temperature back up."

Spock leaned his head back and for a few minutes his whole body was rocked by violent shudders, Jim's hands on his shoulders the only thing steadying him.

When he finally got some control back he opened his eyes and looked at Jim, only now realizing that the human was shivering, too, although not as badly as Spock did. Jim smiled at him through bluish lips. "Hey, you back with me?"

Spock pushed away from the wall, mustering a semblance of composure. "I am sorry, Captain", he croaked.

"What for?" Jim looked confused.

"For slowing your progress. You were right, I should have stayed back. You would have been much faster without me." Jim's hands were still on his shoulders and even though he did not need the support anymore, Spock was reluctant to step away.

Jim snorted and leaned forward, briefly resting his forehead against Spock's shoulder before looking into his eyes again. "Spock, if I'd been alone, I would have given up about halfway through. It was only knowing that we'd both die if I stopped moving that kept me going!"

He scrutinized Spock through narrowed eyes. "Think you can walk? 'Cause we really should get a move on."

"I am fine, Captain." Spock said and started to walk down the corridor. He heard Jim chuckle behind his back. "Yeah, sure you are…"

Spock quickly located the control panel and Jim set to work. Disengaging the security locks took longer than anticipated and Spock started to pace the building, as much to investigate the layout as to get the blood flowing again in his veins. He still couldn't feel his feet, his nose and his ears.

Even though Spock had an A-rating in computer science, it was Jim who was renowned for his skills. They had settled for job-sharing: Spock programmed computers, Jim hacked them.

He was in an adjoining room, exploring the heating unit to try and raise the room-temperature, when a huge explosion rocked the building. Spock was thrown to the floor, pieces of ceiling raining down on him. It took a while for the ringing in his ears to stop and for his vision to come back. He was sure he'd lost consciousness for several minutes. Wiping dust off his face, he lifted himself up on his knees. The wall separating the room with the heating unit from the one Jim occupied had collapsed.

"Jim!" Spock shouted, not censuring the panic in his voice, scrambling over debris on his hands and knees.

Jim was laying on the ground, partially buried by debris of the wall, a long, sharp piece of metal protruding from his stomach and bleeding, bleeding everywhere. Blood, so much blood. On his face, his body, the ground…

He looked dead. Spock wanted to vomit. He violently shut down his feelings. He had to complete the task, raise the shields. If nothing else, Jim should not have died in vain.

He pulled himself up and staggered over to the control panel. It was easy. Jim had already succeeded in disengaging security. All Spock had to do, more or less, was press the on-button.

He could hear the low whine when the force-field came up. Immediately the explosions became fewer, then ceased.

Mindless, Spock crawled over to Jim, pulling off his gloves with his teeth and pushed away rocks and debris with his bare hands. He brushed away blood, so much blood, and frantically searched for a pulse. He vomited in earnest when he found one. How could a human being still be alive if there was so much blood?

He cradled Jim's head in his lap, tried to staunch the flow and knew it was of no use.

And suddenly, there were Nimans all around him, disengaging him from Jim, ignoring his protests, loading them into aircars and zipping them off to a hospital. Spock distantly realized that not only had the attack ended, the storm had lost much of its force, too. Gardner had apparently done his job and brought transportation back up the moment it was possible. Talk about timing.

Jim was being whisked into the emergency operation room the moment they arrived but when Spock tried to follow his legs gave out on him.

He was forced onto a gurney and brought into a room with a single bed. Before he could stop him, a doctor injected him with something. He fought the effects long enough to request his communicator and comm the Enterprise.

Scott answered, but when Spock said McCoy's name, the doctor was immediately in the line. "Jim", Spock gasped, "Emergency. Surgery. Now."

The doctor inhaled sharply. "No one lays a hand on Jim until I'm there."

"Have to, or he is dead. Now."

Dr. McCoy cursed. "Hold on, Spock, I'm coming!"

But the tranquilizer had already taken effect, Spock was out cold.

He awoke only when Dr. McCoy was shaking his shoulder. There were dark circles under the doctor's eyes and a defeated air about him.

Spock shot up. "Jim?"

Dr. McCoy folded back the several layers of thermo blankets Spock was covered with and examined his hands, toes, the tips of his ears and pressed an old-fashioned stethoscope to his chest before running a tricoder up and down his body.

"Is dying", he answered, voice thick with unshed tears. "We did whatever we could but I think he's still dying."

Ice-cold dread shot though Spock, his mind's eye playing out pictures of a world without Jim Kirk. The Enterprise without Jim Kirk. His life without Jim Kirk. It was unimaginable. How could the universe exist without Jim Kirk?

"How are you feeling?" Dr. McCoy asked.

"Cold", Spock answered. He didn't specify it was on the inside, rather than on the outside.

"You'll be fine", the doctor said. Spock very much doubted it. "Just need to get you warmed up some more. Severe hypothermia, a few cuts and bruises, but no lasting effects."

He finished his examinations, stowing away his medical tricoder. "I'll go sit with Jim next door. If you need anything, call."

Spock scrambled up. "Doctor, I… can I… I want to…"

The doctor shrugged exhaustedly. "Sure, just take those blankets and keep bundled up, you really need to get warm."

Spock did as told, but he knew, if Jim died, he would never get warm again. Ever.

Jim lay white and still, like a marble statue. Human blood dripped through an infusion into his arm. There weren't any humans on the planet. It must have been the doctor who had provided it. He was connected to several machines Spock couldn't identify. One of them obviously breathed for him.

They sat on either side of the bed, Spock shivering helplessly under his blankets. The doctor took Jim's left hand in his own and started talking, talking, talking. Begging him not to give up, recounting episodes from their past, sometimes talking nonsense or even praying.

They waited, waited, waited. Spock thought of the past year and a half they had spent together. How, as soon as Spock had joined the crew, Jim had latched onto him. He'd declared Spock his friend, and Spock hadn't had much say in it. Spock had resisted the concept of friendship so utterly foreign to him. Eventually, Jim had told him about how he'd met Spock's counterpart on Delta Vega and how they were just supposed to be friends, so not much sense in Spock fighting it. Even back then, Spock had been mesmerized by Jim's straight-forward attitude, his talent to get what he wanted. Even though he still couldn't regard himself as Jim's friend when he compared himself to Dr. McCoy or Lt. Scott, he couldn't deny he enjoyed the attention Jim paid him, undoubtedly far more often than he deserved.

He had always been a loner, but never by choice. He wondered, now that he knew the benefits of being close to another being, trusting, depending on someone, if he could ever get used to being alone again.

They spent endless hours alone with their own thoughts, sitting vigil at Jim's bed. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Jim took a turn for the better. He struggled to breath on his own and after a while, Dr. McCoy carefully disconnected the machine… and Jim kept on breathing.

The doctor had tears in his eyes. "He's a fighter, this one", he whispered, petting the Captain all over his hair, his face, his arms, while all the way encouraging him to keep it up, wake up, come back.

When, hours later, Jim finally stirred, the tears spilled over. Spock was embarrassed by such an open display of emotion, while at the same time wishing fervently he was capable of something similar.

Instead, he just watched, drinking in the sight of Jim's glazed eyes opening, how he looked at the doctor for long moments before recognition dawned.

"Welcome back, Jimmy, you had us mighty scared, there", the doctor said, voice hoarse from tears and overuse.

Jim apparently tried to reach up to Dr. McCoy's tear-streaked face but failed miserably. The doctor made a sound between a laugh and a sob, capturing the hand with both of his own. "Yes, you're a fighter", he murmured again, affectionately.

Jim's eyes wandered slowly, ever so slowly, over to look at Spock. His lip's formed the Vulcan's name, inaudibly, and his hand twitched, ever so slightly, in Spock's direction.

Spock wanted to take it, oh how he wanted to take it, but he wasn't sure he could. Years of Vulcan education… it was the biggest taboo…

Dr. McCoys eyes bore into him, oblivious, trying to mentally force him into action… until finally Spock reached out, gently resting his hand over Jim's.

With enormous concentration he kept his hand still and the touch light for a few seconds. But soon he couldn't control his emotions any longer. Carefully, he turned his hand, gently caressing with his fingertips the underside of Jim's wrist, his palm, brushing their fingers together, finally entwining them in Vulcan kiss.

It was long, yearning, and painfully gentle.

He peripherally noticed McCoys astonished, almost shocked expression, and he realized the Doctor knew exactly what he was doing. He couldn't bring himself to care.

It was another mission successfully accomplished. Once the shields were up the Nimans had been able to engage their defense-mechanisms too and with supporting fire from the Enterprise, two Warbird's had been destroyed while the remaining two took flight.

But at what cost, Spock couldn't help but ask himself. Jim had almost been killed and still was in no condition to be moved for several more days. Only because of the negligence of a small, entirely too naïve people.

The Nimans, feeling guilty, had offered Dr. McCoy and Spock lodging in their best and most prestigious homes, but they'd both refused. Jim was still fighting and they spent all their time in his room, sleeping on the narrow cots provided, the Doctor sometimes even in Jim's bed, holding him through fever-induced nightmares. He woke seldom and if he did, he was usually only half-conscious.

It would have unsettled Spock, scared him, even, if the Doctor hadn't been so positive about his chances. Spock trusted Dr. McCoys verdict wholeheartedly when it came to Jim.

Then, finally, Jim was stable enough to be taken back to the Enterprise and everyday-life with all its duties had Spock back.

As acting Captain he was required to reorganize the ship, oversee repairs (they had sustained minor damage by the Warbird's phaser fire), wrap up the mission, provide the mission report and fill in forms, more forms and even more forms because the Captain had been injured.

For 23.7 hours after Dr. McCoy had first reported that Jim was awake and lucid, he really didn't have time for a visit. After that, if he looked hard enough, he could still find enough work to postpone the visit for at least another 52.8 hours.

He'd stopped denying naming his emotions, it was of no use. He knew and admitted to himself that he was afraid and insecure about seeing Jim. He had kissed him, touched him in the most intimate Vulcan way, without the other's knowledge or consent. On Vulcan, this was a crime punishable by law. What if the Doctor had told him? What if he hadn't?

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't find the courage to face Jim. Jim, whom he finally realized he loved. Had loved for a while. Jim, whom he'd almost lost.

Three days after Jim had woken up for good, Dr. McCoy was waiting for him in front of his quarters when Spock returned from his shift. He followed him inside uninvited.

"Go see him", Dr. McCoy commanded.

"I will, as soon as I can find the time", Spock said, lying to the Doctor as well as to himself.

Dr. McCoy raked a hand through his hair. "He's waiting for you, been asking for you."

When Spock didn't answer, he sighed. "He's been in love with you for months; you know that, don't you?"

Spock hadn't known. And again he didn't answer. Couldn't, completely taken by surprise by the sensation of shocked disbelief coursing through him.

"Damn hobgoblin", Dr. McCoy huffed affectionately. "Never let anything on. Go talk to him." And gentler he added: "Please."

He started to leave but turned at the door. "If you break his heart, I just might have to kill you."

Spock stared at the door for a long time after it had closed behind the Doctor.

He usually only took calculable risks. He almost always knew the possible outcome of his actions. This was a situation he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't predict the outcome, despite the Doctor's words. He didn't dare predict the outcome.

Now that Spock had found inside himself the feeling of love for another being, he didn't think he would be able to bear rejection. And be the outcome as it may, how would they ever be able to maintain a healthy working relationship if he were to confess to his… feelings?

Spock contemplated for a few moments how much easier it would be if he were a full-blooded Vulcan, analyzing any situation logically with no emotions interfering.

And all of a sudden, he was glad he had another option. A choice. He had a real chance at the human emotion of happiness and didn't Jim always say happiness outweighed all the sorrow and hurt caused by emotions?

He had a chance to experience this, test Jim's argument. And he would take the chance. If all went awry, he could still write it off as an experiment and redouble his efforts at purging his emotions, fully adopting the Vulcan way of life with the help of a healer. Yes, he would do that.

A leap of faith.

Spock stopped in his tracks when that expression came to him.

He had once asked his mother how she had made the decision to relocate to Vulcan when she hadn't known what it would be like. He remembered how she'd smiled at him. "Sometimes it takes a leap of faith."

All the faith Spock had in the universe he placed in Jim Kirk anyway. So maybe it really was time for his very own leap of faith.

He still tried to postpone the confrontation a little longer, time he used to try and get his emotions back under control.

He took a shower, changed into civilian clothing. Black jeans and a black and blue, long-sleeved shirt… Jim had probably never seen him dressed casually in the human way before. He didn't know why he did it now. Maybe it was only to stall for time. Or maybe he wanted to mark the extraordinariness of the occasion. He even tried to meditate for a short period of time to reinforce his barriers, but it was useless.

He checked his appearance in the mirror, something he'd never done before, then took a deep breath and headed to sickbay.

There were no private compartments in a starship sickbay, but Dr. McCoy had done the best he could.

Jim's bed stood in the furthest corner and the Doctor had put screens and curtains around it, which could be opened or closed depending if Jim desired company or privacy.

The curtains were tightly drawn right now and Spock was standing undecidedly in front of them for a long time.

He had just about decided to turn around and leave when a hand descended on his shoulder.

"He's awake", the Doctor said kindly, pushing him forward. He drew away one of the curtains and announced brightly: "You've got company, Jim!" Then, only for Spock to hear: "I'll be in my office and keep everyone out of your way."

With an encouraging pat on the shoulder he shoved Spock through the opening.

Jim's eyes lit up when he saw Spock, but he didn't smile. It dawned on Spock that Jim was probably just as nervous and confused about this encounter as he was.

"Hey", Jim said softly.

He still looked entirely too pale. But at least he was half-sitting, propped up against several cushions.

Spock located a chair in a corner, dragged it up to the bed and sat down. Immediately pictures of the last time he'd done so flashed in front of his eyes… Jim white as a sheet, Jim with tubes in his nose, Jim dying. He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat, suppressing a shiver.

"Hey, are you ok?" Jim's gentle voice brought him back to the present and he would have laughed if he could about Jim inquiring about his wellbeing.

And because there was no answer to that question and because he really was completely, utterly out of control, he propped his elbows onto the bed and let his head fall into his hands. "Jim… oh Jim…", he almost chocked on his own words but still managed an explanation that wasn't any: "We almost lost you."

Jim tugged at the hem of his shirt sleeve. "It's ok, I made it."

Spock pulled away, leaning back, ignoring the flicker of hurt in Jim's eyes, because there was absolutely no way he would be able to keep his mental barriers in place should Jim decide to touch him just now.

"Thanks for being there when everyone thought I was… you know… dying. Bones told me."

Spock didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to think about it. It was almost physically painful. He knew his expression was open. He couldn't find the energy to school his features. He didn't want to. "Oh, Jim", he whispered again, not knowing where to go from there.

Jim was silent for a while, picking at the seam of his bed sheet. "You know, I had the strangest dream", he finally said, slowly, hesitantly. He wasn't looking at Spock, staring at his own hands instead.

"Dream?" Spock prompted, when nothing more was forthcoming.

Jim shot him a quick, careful look under his eyelashes before concentrating on the seam again. Despite his unhealthy pallor he blushed slightly pink. "I've dreamed you kissed me."

Spock's heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched. Jim noticed, intense eyes now fully focused on Spock, cheeks still flushed.

"It was not a dream", Spock said in a rush. Before he had time to think about it, to stop himself. To run away.

"Was it not?" Jim asked in a small voice. There was nothing of the daredevil starship captain in him now. He rather seemed like a lost little boy, hopeful but wary, lest he should be disappointed.

Spock closed his eyes and took a few moments to concentrate. He forced his barriers firmly into place, braced himself, then leaned over and brushed his fingers against Jim's.

"This is how Vulcan's kiss", he said hoarsely.

He intertwined their fingers.

"This is the most intimate physical gesture between Vulcans. I did this to you when you were barely conscious. I apologize for the transgression."

"No, I…really…ok…", Jim stammered, the flush spreading to the base of his neck.

Spock decided to leave their hands the way they were. He barely suppressed a shudder at the pleasure of the gesture.

After several seconds of fighting for control and finally regaining it, he carefully lowered his shields just a little. The sense of disbeliefhopejoyaffectionlov e he conveyed from Jim was almost too much to bear.

"I was so afraid", Jim finally said, breathlessly. "I didn't want to push you."

He brushed a finger against Spock's knuckles and this time the Vulcan couldn't suppress the shudder running down his spine. Jim smoothly did it again.

"I was waiting for a sign, anything, but I was never sure if I only imagined things, like that time in the gym…"

"Shhhh", Spock shushed him by lightly pressing his index and middle finger against Jim's lips.

Then he kissed him.

Long and deep.

The human way.